


The Value of Friendship

by karcathy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, so this is just these guys hanging out and being bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:06:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karcathy/pseuds/karcathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane, Dirk and Roxy hang out and watch a movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Value of Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> Written for fanficstuck on tumblr and yeah go there to request some fics if you want :)

You wouldn’t exactly say you prefer chilling with Roxy and Jane to hanging out with Jake, but if you had to choose, you’d probably pick the girls eight times out of ten. Maybe even nine. Times like these, for instance, make you really glad you’re friends with them. Times like these being times when you’re all crammed onto a two-person sofa, Roxy draped across you and Jane, watching an awful movie and joking about how much Jake would probably like it.

“Aw, man, this movie sucks balls,” Roxy says, pushing herself up onto her elbows, which dig into your thighs.

“Ow, your elbows are as sharp as knives,” you say, shoving her off of your lap and letting her tumble to the floor.

“Hey,” she says, frowning up at you, “Rude.”

“Deal with it,” you reply, poking your tongue out at her.

Jane rolls her eyes, and Roxy pushes herself upright then heads for the kitchen, in search of more popcorn, tipping the unpopped kernels into your lap as she passes you.

“Oi,” you say, turning and throwing one at her.

“Deal with it,” she says, as it pings off of her back.

Jane giggles, and you flick a kernel at her.

“Hey!” she says, throwing it back at you and missing.

You laugh, and flick another at her, bouncing it off of her glasses. She grabs a handful and hurls them at your face. You’re glad you have your shades to protect your eyes, and a full-on kernel war begins, although you quickly run out of ammo. Luckily, that’s when Roxy returns.

“Behold!” she says, holding the bowl of popcorn aloft, “I have returned with great gifts of blah blah blah there’s popcorn.”

“Great – ow,” you say, as she flops back into your lap, her uncannily sharp elbows digging into you again.

“What did I miss?” she asks, as you both grab a handful of popcorn each.

“A battle of truly epic proportions,” you answer, before shoving the popcorn into your mouth.

“It was life or death,” adds Jane, through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Sounds exciting. Didn’t think there were any fights in this – what is it?”

You both shrug.

“The fight was between me and Dirk,” explains Jane.

“Popcorn kernels were our weapon of choice,” you add.

“Who won?”

“Me,” you both say, at the same time.

“It was a draw,” Jane says, after a moment, then adds in a whisper: “But really, it was me.”

You laugh and roll your eyes, then mouth “It was me” at Roxy.

“I officially declare it was a draw,” she says, waving her arms expansively and nearly knocking over the popcorn bowl, which is resting on her stomach.

You spend the next fifteen minutes trying to convince Roxy that you won, but she won’t budge. Eventually you concede, and say that maybe it was a draw – but only after Jane does first. That way, you say smugly, it means that you really won. Jane calls you childish, and Roxy says that if you absolutely have to declare a winner, then it might actually be Jane, and you quickly agree that it was actually a draw.

“Hey, what happened to all the popcorn?” you ask, as your fingers scrape the bottom of the bowl.

“You ate it,” replies Roxy, giggling.

“You mean you ate it,” you say, poking her tummy and making her giggle even more.

“Stop it!” she says, pushing your hand away and knocking the bowl onto the floor.

“Are you ticklish, Roxy?” Jane asks, grinning mischievously.

“No!” Roxy replies, wrapping her arms protectively around her stomach.

“I think you are,” you say, tickling her under her chin and making her squeal.

You and Jane grin at each other, then descend upon Roxy, the two-pronged attack leaving her with no escape. She collapses onto the floor, breathless with laughter and begging for mercy.

“Stop it, stop it, no!” she begs, trying to dodge away from you, “No more! I give up! Mercy!”

You exchange glances with Jane, give each other a little nod, and stop torturing – you mean, tickling – Roxy.

“Thank you,” she says, lying back on the floor and trying to catch her breath, “I swear, the two of you are pure evil. You make a terrible team.”

“You mean brilliant,” says Jane, grinning at you.

“Ha.”

Roxy stays on the floor for the rest of the movie, occasionally glaring up at you and Jane. You all sort of pretend to pay attention to the last 15 minutes, although you interrupt every other line with some facetious comment or other. By the time the credits roll, Roxy seems to have mostly forgiven you.

“Well, that was fun,” you say, fishing the remote out from between the cushions and switching off the TV.

“Hmmph,” says Roxy, and you think she clearly hasn’t entirely forgiven you.

“Yeah, it was,” says Jane, leaning back and closing her eyes, “I don’t think we hang out enough.”

“Yeah,” you say, a split-second after Roxy does, and you both nod thoughtfully.

You all sit in silence for a moment, each lost in your own thoughts.

“Well. Time to go do other stuff,” Roxy says, breaking the silence and climbing to her feet, then wandering off.

“Yeah, same,” says Jane, after a moment, getting up and walking through to the kitchen.

You hear her clattering around in the cupboards, and hope she’s going to bake something good. Of course, everything Jane bakes is good, so that outcome is highly likely. You sit alone on the sofa for a bit, thinking about friendship and other sentimental things. You think you’d rather go through anything with Jane and Roxy than have every comfort in life without them. It’s an easy choice, really.


End file.
